Hard Case
by miafka
Summary: It's my first Sentinel fanfiction and it's written for SA list as a required due. A long, exhausting investigation is just about solved but this time is just a beginning. Hope you enjoy it.


**N/A:** Hello everyone, this is my first finished Sentinel fanficton in English, so please be gentle, but I'll be thankful for any ideas and constructive critic. English isn't my first language.  
Sorry for any mistakes which I made, although it was beta read by Brynn87 who I thank from the bottom of the heart.

**Disclaimer:** Any of the main characters aren't mine, just the storyline. I write it just for fun

Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

HARD CASE by miafka

It had been a long and busy month. Finally the Robertson case was just about solved, but all the members of Major Crimes were completely exhausted and on edge. Unfortunately, Ellison didn't have the prerogative of taking a much deserved rest. While the investigation _was_ drawing to a close, it wasn't quite completed yet. Robertson had been arrested and was expected to confess in an upcoming interrogation, and _then_ it would be over, but Jim would be on duty until the very last "t" was crossed and "i" was dotted. Jim would be glad to see it over and done with. This was the kind of case that really got to Jim. Three innocent young people, with their whole life ahead of them, were cut down by a low life, and now, instead of planning their promising future, they were lying on slabs in the morgue, waiting for the pathologist to determine exactly _how_ they were killed.

So it was that Detective James Ellison was sitting at his desk on a Thursday, the 28th of November, holding a mug of cold coffee, completely lost in his thoughts. He wasn't the only one here this late, either. Several other members of Major Crimes were still there, as well.

"Are you alright, Ellison?" The worried voice of his captain continued when he got no immediate answer from his detective. "Jim?!"

"Yes, Captain. I'm fine." _No, I am most definitely not fine,_ Jim thought to himself_._ "I was just thinking…" Looking straight into Simon's eyes, Jim was no longer able to hide his frustration and act like everything was fine. "The truth is, Simon, I won't be fine, until Robertson ends up in a cell for the rest of his life. Something tells me this isn't over yet, though. I can feel it. There is something else we have to…"

"We got him, Jim." Simon interrupted. "It's all over. Just a few more days and we can close the investigation for good. All we need is for Robertson to plead guilty, and that should happen easily enough. You and Sandburg deserve a few days off. I mean it, Jim. We all do," Simon sighed as he looked around at the other detectives.

Jim just couldn't shake this feeling, though. He took a sip of his coffee and returned to the files in his hand. There was something there that he just couldn't put his finger on. He knew it was there. Now he just had to find it.

"If you _have_ to continue doing that, take the files home with you. I'm serious Ellison. You need to get out of here, now." Simon said, as Jim simply nodded and sighed. "And where's Sandburg? Have you seen him this afternoon? He said this morning that he'd set up that psychological profile on Robertson…"

The ring of the cell phone interrupted Simon's monologue.

"Speak of the devil…" Jim answered the phone. "Sandburg, where the hell are you?! Why are you…? Oh…what? Alright Chief, I'm on my way. I'll be there in a few minutes, okay? No, Chief. Don't worry. I'm on my way with back up. Listen to me, Sandburg. Blair? Chief! Answer me!"

"What happened?" Simon asked anxiously.

"Someone's trying to break into the loft." Jim was already on his way to the stairs.

***

On the way to the loft, Jim tried to push away the horrible thoughts of what might be happening to Blair. He really needed to hear his friend's voice, but, unfortunately, Sandburg had hung up his cell phone and wasn't answering either it or the home phone. Jim felt helpless. All he could do was listen to Simon try to be comforting as they raced to the loft, hoping to get there on time. Most likely, this attempted burglary was nothing special…completely random, but Jim couldn't shake the feeling that this it had something to do with Robertson. But what?

Jim had long since gotten use to seeing dead bodies, but this was one situation where he wouldn't be able to handle it. Not this body. Not his best friend, his roommate, the unofficial member of the police crew. He wouldn't be able to handle it if his Guide was found…dead. That wouldn't happen, though. It couldn't. Robertson was in custody and hadn't had the time to even think about an escape. He was right where they had left him…in lock-up, awaiting interrogation. Tomorrow morning, Jim would question the creep and reveal the man's dark side, but, in the meantime, the jerk was well away from Jim's friend. This _was_ just a random break-in. It _had_ to be.

Jim and Simon, along with a few uniformed policemen, approached the door in silence. The door of the loft was opened and it was obvious that someone had entered it. The question was if the burglar was still there, or if he had just gone in and back out.

"Dear Lord…" Simon murmured, looking around at a ruined loft. "The burglar appears to be long gone, but where's…"

The loft was a mess, as if somebody had been looking for something. The coffee table and the couch had been turned over, and most of the contents of the shelves were on the floor. As the uniforms checked the loft for any sign of a burglar, Jim proceeded farther into the apartment, noting the damage, but suddenly he called to his colleagues.

Jim crouched down beside Sandburg, who was curled up on the kitchen floor, unconscious. As Simon joined him in the kitchen, Jim told him, "He's breathing. I think he's got a broken arm and at least a slight concussion." To Blair, he said, "Aw, Chief. I'm sorry you got hurt."

One of the uniforms, who was calling to the station for some reinforcements and a forensic team asked, "Do you need an ambulance?"

"No, thank you," Jim replied, "I'm going to drive him myself." Blair made a small noise so Jim addressed him directly. "Sandburg? Can you hear me? Open your eyes for me. That's right. Open your eyes and try to focus on me, okay? Hey! Keep them open. Don't close your eyes."

Blair kept his eyes open and tried to focus on Jim, as directed. "J-Jim? Wh-what happ'n'd…? Oh, my head…and my hand. Ow, man. It hurts like hell! Ow!"

"Welcome back to the real world, Rambo." Jim was so relieved to be given another chance to tease his friend. "Easy, Chief. I'll take you to the hospital and then you're going to tell me what happened here, okay?"

Blair merely gave a slow nod, completely compliant. It was totally unlike him.

"What do you remember?" Simon cut the silence while helping Jim cautiously lead Sandburg to the elevator.

"Uh…I remember…I-I think I was working on Robertson's profile and I ordered a pizza, waiting for Jim. After some time, I phoned you…and suddenly there was someone inside the loft. Uh…It was a guy…really mad…and he started to shout and smash everything to pieces…started ripping up the loft. I tried to talk with him…but it wasn't a good idea. I shouldn't have tried it, man."

"Yeah," Jim answered, looking at his friend's swollen arm, "I can imagine. Tell us what happened next, Chief." Blair started to get lethargic again, so Jim directed, "Don't close your eyes, Chief. You hear me? I know you're sleepy, but you have to stay awake. Try to remember what he said."

"H-he, uh…he said strange things, Jim. He said that he had helped Robertson with those kids. And that we would find another two bodies unless we released Phil Robertson." Blair's speak became more fluent as he became more anxious. "He said that he had some surprises for us. I tried to ask what that meant, but he didn't want to answer any questions. He only said that you should watch your back and that he had a lot to do. I suppose he must have hit me then. The next thing I remember was seeing you…and Simon…"

"Could you describe him, Sandburg? Recognize him, maybe?"

"I think so…uh…he was short-haired, taller than me…_much_ stronger than me. He had a nice tattoo on the right side of his neck…a flying dragon, I think…or something like that."

Jim and Simon exchanged looks.

"Take care of the kid, Jim. He's an important eyewitness for this case. Keep an eye on him."

***

A few hours later, after having his broken arm examined and set, Sandburg was allowed to go home. It wasn't much of a relief to have to come back to a destroyed loft in the middle of the night, but it was better than having to spend another hour in the noisy hospital room. At this moment, neither Sentinel nor Guide could think of anything better than having a long, undisturbed sleep in their own beds. It wasn't to be, however. To their surprise, Simon was sitting at their kitchen table, sipping a beer.

"Hey, Simon." Jim greeted his captain. "What are you doing here?" For the first time since they walked in the door, Jim got a good look at the loft. "Oh. You didn't have to…" The loft looked much better than it had when they rushed out, earlier. Unbroken objects had been replaced on the shelves or in the proper cabinets, and most of the broken pieces had been disposed of.

"It's not quite finished yet, Jim, but at least it's cleaner, safer and doesn't look like the aftermath of an explosion," teased Simon. "Although I had _always_ thought the place needed some redecorating."

Blair chuckled and Jim just rolled his eyes at the joke, so, after a few more sips of beer, Simon went back to serious concerns. "How's our important witness doing?"

"Pretty good, considering the circumstances, Simon." Blair replied, barely stifling a yawn. "I'm dead tired, though…too tired to think. I'm going to go on to bed now, even if my room is trashed and I have to sleep on the floor." The young man couldn't hold back the yawn this time, and walked unsteadily into his room.

"How is he really, Jim?" Simon asked his friend, knowing that Sandburg often sugar-coated things like this.

"He's on painkillers, for now," Jim answered. "He was really lucky, Simon. He only has a lump on his head and a few bruises, but fortunately, no sign of concussion. There's a slight cut over his temple, but it's just a slight 'war wound'. You know he'll get plenty of mileage from that with the girls." Jim and Simon shared a chuckle, and then Jim continued. "The bad news is that his left arm is broken pretty badly." Jim snagged a beer from the fridge and changed the subject. "Any news about our burglar?"

"Unfortunately, he seems to have vanished after knocking Sandburg out, and we don't have any clue where he might have gone, or who he was." Simon paused long enough to sip his beer, then continued. "But, there's more bad news. Robertson was stabbed about three hours ago."

"What?" Suddenly, the drowsiness melted away and Jim stood rigid, stunned by this information. "You're joking! How the…?!"

"Probably during a fight. The guards reported a raucous in the cell block, then they found Robertson. None of the other prisoners seem too interested in talking about it."

"Just great. And we let the man escape who broke into the loft, admitted he helped kill three people, and assaulted Sandburg in his own home."

"I don't like it any more than you do, Jim." Simon tried to smooth his detective's ruffled feathers. "We'll catch him. We'll follow up on leads from the burglary, get Sandburg's description of the perp, put out a BOLO. We'll get him. But it's going to take time."

Simon put down his empty beer bottle and headed toward the door. "Right now, you need to get some rest, take care of that partner of yours, and move all of the things in the loft that I undoubtedly put back in the wrong places. I'll see you both in my office on Monday." As he reached the door he turned around and repeated, with a confidence he didn't feel, "We'll get him, Jim."

The end


End file.
